After the Battle
by jzhanfan
Summary: My take on what happened just after the Battle of Endor... and what didn't happen. H/L with some angst from Luke.
1. Chapter 1

Han Solo decided he was getting old.

Ten years ago, he'd have been right in the thick of things at a party like this. Drinking, dancing, and the ultimate reason for celebrating - what more could you want?

Instead, here he was at the biggest victory party in the galaxy, wishing he could go somewhere quiet and sleep for about a week.

Since when did Han Solo want the party to end?

Trouble was, he just couldn't get into the spirit of the thing. So much had happened in the past couple of days that he hadn't even gotten his mind wrapped around it all yet. Maybe he was just coming down from the adrenaline high of the battle. Or maybe the side effects of his time in carbonite were just now catching up to him. Whatever the reason, he wasn't enjoying this half as much as he ought to have been.

He'd had a few drinks and wandered the Ewok village, being dragged into one hut after another by an excited Wookiee. Admittedly, he'd been highly popular at every place they'd been. It had felt good to be a part of things, really a part of things.

If someone had told him, as recently as a year ago, that he'd end up a General - well, he wouldn't have believed it, that's for sure.

But it was true - said so right on his name tag: "General Han Solo". He'd removed the blasted thing the minute Crix Madine wasn't looking and shoved it in his jacket pocket. There was no need for a name tag, anyway - every last sentient being on this moon knew exactly who he was. He was getting rather weary of being addressed as "General" - or worse, "sir" - by total strangers.

This whole "general" bit was going to take some getting used to.

He'd never been all that comfortable with the whole "Hero of the Rebellion" label that he'd been stuck with after Yavin, particularly since it seemed to mean that he was expected to work wonders on impossible assignments, while being given minimal resources.

Of course, there were fringe benefits to the hero gig that had far exceeded the piddling sums the Alliance had provided him as compensation for his time.

The reward would have been nice, had he managed to hold on to it long enough to use it to get Jabba off his back. As it was, the medal that had been placed around his neck at Yavin was about all he had to show for that effort.

Well, no. that wasn't quite true.

There was one other thing he'd gotten out of that adventure.

Playing the role of hero had given Han the opportunity to associate closely with a certain Heroine of the Rebellion, which he hadn't minded nearly as much as he'd pretended to over the years.

Speaking of whom... just where did his particular Heroine happen to be hiding right now?

He hadn't seen her in hours. If he had to be dancing, why couldn't he have her for his partner? He would have welcomed a legitimate and public excuse for holding her close.

In fact, if he closed his eyes, he could imagine it now: her arms around his waist, her head against his chest, the two of them swaying together to some soft music. Right at this moment, he thought he'd settle for the soft music part, even if he did have to slow dance with this tall, pale blue-skinned Twi'lek pilot instead of with his Princess.

He wasn't fond of the Ewoks' style of music - those blasted drums and high pitched pipes were giving him a massive headache. And how the hell were you supposed to dance to the stuff? He felt like a drunken Gamorrean trying to keep up with the Twi'lek, who seemed determined to lead.

He'd made the mistake of asking her where she'd been during the battle, and she'd been more than happy to launch into a long and involved tale of her adventures with the recon team. She'd gotten to fly one of the speeder bikes they'd commandeered from the Imperial scouts they'd diverted. She assured him that the experience was exhilarating… simply exhilarating. Han didn't bother telling her he'd already been on one. Or that it was somewhat less than exhilarating trying to fly one while someone was shooting at you.

The lekku trailing down her back kept coiling around his wrists. He had just about decided that she was doing it on purpose. Surreptitiously, he eyed the crowd over her shoulder, alert for an opportunity to escape. Lekku or no, he suspected she was flirting with him, and he wasn't in the mood at the moment.

Across the room, Jan Dodonna gave him a cheerful thumbs-up and Han smiled tightly, not appreciating this particular encouragement. It had been decided by someone upstairs in the Command ship that the Heroes of the Rebellion should not monopolize one another. Instead they were instructed to go forth and mingle with the Unsung Heroes of the Rebellion. General Willard had actually used that phrase.

Han suspected High Command would regret this particular instruction, if they'd gotten a glimpse of what General Calrissian was up to in the corner with that girl from Supply. Yeah, Lando was mingling, all right.

Thankfully, he spotted Face Loran wading through the crush of people toward the makeshift bar.

Han deftly steered his partner around so she caught sight of the formerly famous holo actor, producing squeals of joy from her when he assured her that it was, indeed, the one and only Loran that she beheld. Solo chuckled to himself at the extent of her excitement. Apparently, "matinee idol" had better credentials than "Hero of the Rebellion".

The only thing to do, of course, was to introduce her to the handsome pilot, and Han did what needed to be done. Soon Face was the one entangled in those coiling lekku, and Han was on his way to the bar.

His mood improved once he had a glass of ale - well, it looked like ale, at least - in his hand. Trying not to draw attention to himself, he stood against the wall, scanning the room, in vain, for his princess.

His princess. That was something else he wasn't used to yet - Princess Leia Organa, who could have had any man she wanted, had chosen him.

He wasn't complaining, mind you. He just had a hard time accepting that it was real. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that any minute now, he was going to wake up, and find out the whole thing - General, Death Star, Ewoks, Leia - was all some weird dream he'd been having while trapped in the carbonite.

It was almost too good to be true.

The first thing she'd ever said to him was an insult, and the next words out of her mouth were nothing short of an order: "Into the garbage chute, flyboy. " And into the chute he'd gone.

Racing through the corridors of the first Death Star - and really, who'd have guessed one day he'd be calling it the "first" Death Star? - with a squad of stormtroopers at their heels, he and Chewie had had a hasty conversation about the prisoner they'd just rescued.

He could still remember his own words, as if it'd been yesterday. "Either I'm going to kill her myself or I'm beginning to like her." Solo could no longer recall just when it had happened, but somewhere in the four years since then, he had made up his mind about the Princess: he definitely liked her. In fact, he'd fallen hopelessly in love with her.

But after all this time, he still found it hard to believe that there really was any hope for a Princess and a guy like him. It was a damn good thing no one had ever told him the odds.

They'd only had a few private minutes, lying together beneath the trees, after he'd bound up her wounded arm. She'd told him the little information Luke had given her before he left, about their shared heritage. It hadn't been easy to swallow. Leia and the kid, twins? Vader, their father?

Well, hell. He was supposed to believe Luke was a Jedi, now. Might as well accept the rest of it, too. It seemed to be the day for accepting crazy things.

The Emperor, dead. Vader, dead. The Empire, in disarray. Victory, in their grasp.

And a princess, in his arms.

It hadn't lasted nearly long enough, before duty had called.

Reluctantly, he'd trudged back to the Ewok hut that they'd commandeered as a temporary headquarters to rejoin the rest of the strike team in an informal debriefing. They'd patched in communications links to the various ships in the scattered Fleet, and soon, it seemed like half of the High Command was online.

Before he knew it, the impromptu gathering had deteriorated (in his view, at least) into a formal discussion of procedures and plans for the forest moon and the captured Imperial vessels.

He'd quietly slipped away as soon as possible, but when he'd returned to the shaded glen where he'd left her, she was gone. One of the Ewoks had managed to point him in the right direction, and he'd found her in the hut that had been set up as a makeshift medical clinic.

She was asleep on a cot with a drip in her arm, and his heart had gone cold at the sight.

He'd gone in search of a medic and he hadn't been exactly polite to the tech who'd intercepted him, demanding to know just what he thought he was doing.

Luckily the physician in charge of the "clinic" had been alerted to the presence of a general, and was quick to intercede. He assured the worried Solo that the Princess had simply lost a lot of blood today and tried to do too much, too soon.

"She's just overdone it, sir. We'll get some fluids in her and she'll be fine in a few hours."

"She's part of my strike team, damn it - why didn't anyone call me?"

The medic looked away, embarrassed. "She specifically asked that we not get in touch with you, Captain... er... General Solo. She... well, she said you'd worry, sir."

"Yeah," Han replied, with a faint smile. "I do that."

Without another word to the medic, he dropped down and settled himself cross-legged, at the foot of her bed, carefully lifting her feet, beneath the blanket, to rest them on his lap.

The medic was clearly stunned at Solo's presumption and opened his mouth to protest.

"Go, on. I'll call you if I need anything," Han said, dismissing him with a casual flick of his hand. When the medic didn't budge, Solo's expression hardened. "Don't worry, Lieutenant. Your patient's not going anywhere."

"But, sir," sputtered the young man, helplessly. "I can't just leave you here with her, I'm supposed to..."

"You WILL leave me here with her. That clear, son?"

"Yes, sir."

He didn't care if she was sleeping or not. He was content to sit there quietly and stare at her, marveling at his own good fortune.

What crazy roll of the cosmic dice had landed him here, on the Princess's bed, waiting for her to awaken so he could see her smile at him?

He chuckled to himself at this thought. On her bed, eh? He'd have preferred to be IN it, but he hadn't quite figured out yet how to manage that particular transition.

From her point of view it had been more than half a year... but to him it was only a few weeks ago that they'd been together on the _Falcon_, en route to Bespin. They'd grown closer on that trip - they'd left Hoth as reluctant comrades, occasional antagonists, and arrived in Bespin as something more than friends.

But she'd kept her guard up, never quite believing that he wasn't leaving for good. It hadn't been until the moment before he'd been dropped into the carbonite that she'd confessed her true feelings for him.

He'd known already, before she'd blurted it out in that last instant, that she cared for him. He'd seen it in her eyes, tasted it in her kiss. It hadn't been necessary for her to say it, but he was glad she had.

It made his own decision less painful. He'd only discovered the depth of his own feelings for her scant moments earlier, when he'd plunged headlong into the Wookiee's scuffle with the stormtroopers. Only the Wookiee, whose honor bound him to Solo more deeply than any oath, could have understood Han's emotion in that terrible moment.

Keeping her safe was more important to Solo than his own life.

Chewie had seen this immediately, but Leia had not. Her insecurity and doubt about whether he returned her feelings, and her deep-seeded terror that she was going to lose him, in the end, had left her more vulnerable than before.

_What a pair we are_, he thought ruefully.

He'd gotten glimpses of her as she worked her way through the crowd, determined to speak, personally, to every member of the strike team and the command staff. The few times so far that he'd managed to catch up with her, she'd been in a group of people.

It had been awkward to hear her addressing him as "General Solo," without the knowing smile or teasing tone she'd already adopted in private for his new title.

She had every reason, he knew, to be distracted and preoccupied. And he didn't push her. She wore her best diplomatic smile and to all appearances was having a grand time celebrating… but Han knew her well enough to know better. He knew she was worried about Luke, who was acting rather strange and... well, Jedi-like. And he also knew that she was far more upset by Luke's revelation about her parentage than she was letting on.

Han, too, was more worried than he was letting on. He was worried for her - he couldn't forget just how close he'd come to losing her - and all he wanted was to be near her, to know she was all right. And he wasn't even managing that much.

What he really wanted was to get her alone somewhere and kiss her until they both forgot about the battle, forgot about Vader, forgot about everything.

Han was tired and he didn't want to worry about his ship or about what was ahead for them all. Not tonight. Tonight he just wanted to hold the woman he loved in his arms and remind himself of what really mattered.

Instead here he was at a party, pretending to have a swell time.


	2. Chapter 2

He spotted them at almost the same moment, entering through different doors.

Luke was in black, as he'd been before, serious and somber.

His eyes met Han's briefly, and their bright blue depths reflected the burdens of knowledge and sadness that had been placed on his shoulders.

_A Jedi, huh, kid?_

Han's eyes went to the other doorway, where Leia stood chatting with Wedge. He hadn't realized how worried he'd been about her until the relief washed over him. Determined not to let her out of his sight again, he pushed off from the wall and headed in her direction.

Luke, however, had spotted her as well, and got there first. She came up on tip toe to hug him tightly, and for an instant, Han felt that familiar clenching in his gut.

_"He's her brother,"_ he reminded himself. _"Relax." _

His mental pep talk wasn't working, because it was clear immediately that whatever Luke had said to her had spoiled her pleasure over his arrival. He was still speaking very earnestly and Leia was frowning.

She abruptly pulled her hand from Luke's grasp, and Han, still halfway across the room, caught the look of panic in her brown eyes.

He moved fast, and in a moment, he was close enough for his hand to fall onto her shoulder. Without looking to see who it was, without a word, she turned toward him and pressed her face into his shirt front.

"Hey," he said, his arms going around her instinctively, as his head bent to hers. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

She didn't lift her head, and her voice was muffled against his chest, but he could still hear the vehemence in her words. "I'm not going. I won't."

He tried to tip her head back so he could see her face, but she wouldn't let him. "Where? Where won't you go?"

She just kept shaking her head against his chest. Han glanced at Luke, his eyebrow raised in query.

"I want her to come with me," Luke said, "to the place where I took his body."

Han was still confused. "Whose body?"

"Vader," she spat, bitterly, pulling back at last to look up into his eyes. "He wants me to come see the funeral pyre where he burned what was left of Vader."

"What was left of Anakin Skywalker," Luke corrected quietly.

Han felt Leia tremble in his arms and he stared at Luke, dumbfounded.

The three of them had had a long, private talk, when Luke had first returned to the Rebels' camp. Luke had told them both as much of what had happened on the Death Star as he could. Leia had listened to it all in silence. Han remembered the kid saying he had brought their father's body back to the forest moon with him, that he wouldn't leave him on the Death Star even though Vader had asked him to. Luke had planned to give his father a proper farewell. Han guessed that was where the kid had been for the last hour or so - off in the woods somewhere, burning what was left. How long would that suit have taken to burn? And now he wanted Leia to come see it?

Why? So she could pay her respects to her father?

Her father: Vader. Han shook his head as if to clear it. He still couldn't get his head around it.

Han knew plenty about Darth Vader. Vader, who had overseen Han's own torture on Bespin, had casually used him to test the carbon freezing process. Vader, who had tortured Leia on the first Death Star, had watched Alderaan die while she stood beside him.

Luke wanted him to believe in this other Vader, who had been their father. This new, reformed Vader, who had saved Luke's life and murdered the Emperor.

Darth Vader.

Han supposed he was expected to think of him as Anakin Skywalker now.

Too much for him to cope with. Way too much for Leia to cope with.

"Listen, kid, I get what you're trying to do, but if she doesn't want to go… "

"She needs to accept it, Han."

"Luke," Han said, in the dangerously calm voice that Luke knew meant he was truly angry. "What do you want her to do?"

"I want her to come, to see it, to feel his presence."

"I don't want to feel his presence," she said, bitterly. "He's gone and I want him to stay there."

"Vader's gone, Leia," Luke said, earnestly. "Anakin lives on in the Force."

"Not to me," she whispered, turning her face back into Han's shirt.

"Luke, buddy. Come on. Look at her. She's not ready to cope with this. Not yet."

At that, Leia glared up at him, "What do you mean, not yet? You think I'm going to change my mind about this?"

Han put a finger gently over her lips. "Shhh, sweetheart. Don't." She fell silent at once, and Luke stared.

Han's words had been soothing, but there'd been no mistaking the tone, or Leia's immediate response to it. It wasn't like Leia to take orders from anyone, least of all Han. When had that changed?

Luke was still staring when Solo looked back at him, over Leia's head. "Not tonight, kid. Please."

Again, Luke wondered when the dynamic had changed, when Solo had become so protective of the Princess. Han had positioned himself between Luke and Leia, and she'd moved, automatically, into his embrace. She'd gone to Han without hesitation, and he stood between them now, a barrier both physical and emotional.

It was a fundamental shift in their friendship that Luke hadn't anticipated.

Always before it had been the three of them. And suddenly, it wasn't. Han and Leia were two, and she was shutting him out.

More significantly, it was the first time he could recall Han taking Leia's side on anything that mattered. Siding with her, and pushing him out. Usually it was he and Han, working together, trying to convince Leia to do something... or he and Leia, talking Han out of something.

Luke looked at his friend as if seeing him for the first time.

He had known, months ago, how Leia and Han felt about each other - but knowing it and seeing it with his own eyes were two very different things.

He hadn't spent very much time with them on Tatooine after Han's rescue - he'd headed off to Dagobah to learn the truth about himself, about Leia, about Vader. And afterward... well, he'd been a bit preoccupied. The last few days had been a blur of activity.

He stopped, and looked, and saw what he hadn't seen before.

The tenderness, concern, and affection in Solo's eyes as he stroked Leia's hair and tried to soothe her mirrored Luke's own feelings for her. The undercurrent of desire that radiated from his friend and his sister was unmistakable, and it called up an answering pang of loneliness and loss in his own heart.

Not so long ago, he'd dreamed of a day when she would look at him the way she was looking at Han right this moment. He'd wanted her to be his, once, and he knew, now, that it wasn't meant to be.

Luke was touched, and humbled, and jealous all at once.

"I love her, too, Han," he said, at last.

"Then why are you trying to hurt to her?"

"She needs to do this."

"Maybe, but not tonight, she doesn't. It's been a long day for everyone and you've thrown a lot at her at once. Just... just don't, all right?"

Luke was silent. Leia had shut him out of her mind, out of their connection in the Force completely and she wouldn't look up at him, either. "It's important, Han," he said, at last.

"So's she," Han replied, simply. He bent his head and spoke in Leia's ear. "Listen to me, sweetheart. You don't have to do this, all right? Luke needs someone to go with him, he needs a witness, fine. I'll go."

She looked up at him, taken aback by his offer.

Behind them, Luke started to speak, but stopped when he saw the look in his sister's eyes.

"Han, no," she began, but he put his finger to her lips gently.

"Shh, Leia. It's important to Luke, but you can't do this now. I'll go. It'll be fine. You'll be all right here, till we come back?" She nodded, swiping at tears.

Han turned back to Luke, who gave his friend an appraising look. "You sure about this, Han?"

"Lead the way, kid."

Leia watched them go, not fighting her tears. She understood what Luke wanted from her, but she simply couldn't do it. And she was immensely touched that Han was ready to go face this in her stead.

The two men walked in silence to the clearing that had become an impromptu staging area for the growing fleet of speeder bikes they'd commandeered from the Imperial garrison on the moon.

"Han, you don't have to do this." Luke said, as they gathered helmets and gloves.

"Yeah, I do." The older man's voice was heavy. "Because you're right about one thing - someone has to go out there with you, someone has to see it, and I don't want it to be her."

"You're willing to do this for her?"

Han gave his friend a level stare. "I'm willing to do a lot more than this for her, kid."

Luke met the gaze unflinchingly and Han had the distinct impression his mind had just been read. "I guess you are," Luke sighed. "I wish she would come with me, though. She needs to accept it."

"She will. Just not tonight, kid. Give her time. How well did you take the news when you first found out, eh?"

Luke smiled without humor. "I jumped down an airshaft and tried to kill myself."

Han nodded. "Well, then. Compared to that, I think she's taking it pretty well."

"You've got a point." Luke let out a long sigh. "It's going to be harder for her, though. She has a lot more to let go of than I do."

"Because of Alderaan?"

"Yes, but not just that," Luke said, softly, "because of what happened to you, at Bespin."

Han stared at the young Jedi. "She said that?"

"Not directly," Luke sighed again. "But I can feel it."

"Oh, well, then. If you feel it," Han grumbled. "Can't argue with the Jedi's feelings."

Luke let out a laugh, and then sobered. "She'll forgive what was done to her sooner than she will forgive what was done to others. Especially those she cares about."

Han's gaze was unreadable. "Well, that'll take a while, then. Lotta harm done to a lotta people on Alderaan."

"I think the anger she feels toward him right now is because of what was done to you."

"I'm not feeling all that kindly toward him myself if you want to know the truth, buddy."

Luke sighed. "Han, he..."

"Yeah, I know. Had some good deep down inside, saw the light, killed the Emperor, saved your life..." Han shook his head and shrugged. "Still not sorry he's dead, kid." He swung his leg over the speeder and settled in. "Let's go do this."

It was quite some time later that they returned to the village.

They found Leia with Chewie, who was trying, with only modest success, to improve her mood.

Leia ran to them and wrapped her arms tightly around Han's waist, then let go and came to Luke, embracing him tightly as well. "I'm sorry," she said, softly. "It's not you, you know that."

"I know," Luke said, gently. "I'm the one who should be sorry, Leia. Han was right. You aren't ready, and I shouldn't have pressed you."

"I felt…" she began, unable to put into words what she'd felt while they were gone. "I felt your peace. And sadness. And love."

Luke nodded. "I'm glad. I wish you could find the same peace, and I'll try to help you if you'll let me."

"Later," she said, softly. "Maybe later I'll be ready."

"I understand," he nodded. "I'll leave you two alone," he added, taking her hand and placing it firmly in Han's. "Han can tell you about it."

Han drew her gently back towards him, holding her close. "I'll tell you about it when you're ready, sweetheart. Up to you." She nodded, understanding perfectly.

Then, paying no mind to the crowd around them, he drew back from the embrace and looked down into her eyes. "I love you, Leia Organa."

"I know," she replied, softly. "I love you, too."

Solo's face creased in a lopsided smile, and he bent to take her face in his hands, kissing her deeply.

Those nearby stopped dancing to stare openly at the Princess and the smuggler-turned-General, and a murmur went through the crowd as suspicions were confirmed and credits changed hands.

Very softly, Luke began to clap, and after a moment's hesitation, those around him joined in.

Han heard the laughter and the applause and leaned over her, bending her body back and supporting her with strong arms.

He let her go at last, but his eyes never left hers as he pressed his forehead to hers and they shared a smile.

"C'mon, sweetheart. I think we both need some fresh air."

Her smile grew wider, but abruptly faded as she spotted Luke turning away from them.

She wriggled free of Han's embrace and caught Luke's arm, hugging him quickly. "Good night, Luke," she said, softly.

He nodded and replaced her hand in Solo's. "Good night, Leia."

Han gently steered her away, leaving Luke staring silently after them.


	3. Chapter 3

Outside in the cool evening, they walked, side by side, along the deserted walkway toward the small huts the Ewoks had cleared and made available to their group.

She looked up at the towering trees and let out a long sigh.

"Better?" he asked, gently.

"Much," she smiled, squeezing his hand.

He seemed to know where he was going, so she was content to let him lead. He guided her to a high platform he'd found earlier, which afforded an expansive view of the clearing below, but was high enough that very little noise carried up to them. He sat down, his back against the planked rail, and patted the spot in front of him.

She hesitated only a moment before tucking her tunic around her hips and settling comfortably between his legs, leaning back against the solid warmth of his chest as he wrapped strong arms around her waist.

"Don't know about you, sweetheart, but I am partied out. It's nice to get out of there for a while."

She tipped her head back to look up at him, a faint smile on her lips. "Han Solo, partied out?"

He gave her a crooked grin and shrugged. "Who would have thought it?"

Her shoulders shook with a gentle laugh. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"Been a long day, hasn't it?"

"Extremely." Her breath blew out in a long sigh. "This is nice, Han," she said, softly. "Thank you."

She nestled closer to him, and he bent to kiss the top of her head. "At your service, sweetheart."

She covered his hands, at her waist, with her own, and they sat for some time, in silence, listening to the distant sounds of celebration from the village and the nearby sounds of the forest around them.

He continued to brush his lips softly against her hair and she was very conscious of his hands, resting possessively around her waist. His thumbs traced the curved underside of her breast, along the fabric of her tunic, and she felt the warm, thick weight of his arousal against the small of her back.

She turned her face against his chest, and listened to the racing beat of his heart beneath her cheek.

At last, into the silence, she asked, in a low voice, "Do you think I should have gone with him, Han?"

"No," he said, simply, "I don't. Why? Did you want to?"

He felt her shiver and tightened his arms around her. "No." She turned her head so she could look into his face. "I don't understand how he's accepted all of this so easily, Han. How can he be so calm about it? I feel like my whole world's been turned on end."

"Maybe it's a Jedi thing."

As he'd hoped, this made her smile. "Maybe. Luke says I'm strong in the Force, too, but I can't imagine I'll ever be able to use it as he does." Her smile faded. "He says the Force is strong in our family." She shuddered, and he knew she was thinking of Vader. "It's not a power I ever asked for, not one I want," she said, bitterly. "I just can't accept that… that machine, as my father. I don't want him, I don't want his powers. I just want to be who I've always been, Leia Organa, of Alderaan. Not… not Vader's daughter."

Abruptly she pulled free of his arms and rose to her feet. She walked to the railing and leaned her arms on it, looking out over the silent forest, at the lights below.

Wordlessly, he rose as well, and came to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his cheek against her shoulder. He didn't know what to say to her.

She leaned back into his embrace for a moment, and then, all at once, the emotions that had been churning inside her were too much for her to hold inside. Tears spilled down her cheeks and, furious at herself for losing control, she pulled away from him, burying her face in her hands.

He couldn't let her run away, not now. Catching her shoulder, he drew her back into his arms. "C'mere," he said gently, wrapping her in his warmth.

"Oh, Han!" She clung to him, and he felt her shoulders tremble as she began to cry in earnest.

"It's all right, sweetheart," he murmured soothingly. "Leia, nothing's changed. Nothing. You're still you. And it's you I love."

She wept for a long while, and he simply held her, whispering tender words against her hair and patting her back softly. At last her tears were spent and turning her head, she rested her cheek against his chest and tried to slow her own breathing.

Her arms slid around his waist, and he held her close, continuing to stroke her hair. She looked up at him, furtively wiping at her wet cheeks with her sleeve. "I've made a mess of your shirt," she said, her voice a little unsteady.

"Ah, it wasn't in that great a shape to start with," he replied, lightly. "Don't worry about it."

"They'll be wondering where we disappeared to," she said, softly.

"So? Do you want to go back?"

"You have a better idea?"

"Oh, I've got lots of ideas," he grinned, wickedly.

"I bet you have." She laughed in spite of herself.

"You wanna hear?" She smiled and he continued, coaxingly. "You're gonna like them, I promise."

"I'm sure I would."

He took this as an invitation and bent to kiss her, his tongue coaxing her lips apart. She took a step closer and his hands slid from her shoulders, down her arms, and gently guided her hands to the small of his back. She clung to him tightly, as he deepened the kiss and her knees went liquid beneath her.

When his hands slid beneath the edge of her tunic, though, the heat of his palm scalding against the flesh of her back, she broke off the kiss abruptly. He relaxed his hold on her but kept his arms around her waist.

She touched his face, gently, with one finger. "I think you'll have to save those plans for another night." His face fell and she went on, quickly. "Han, I'm sorry. But I don't think, tonight... I don't..." She paused, considering her words carefully, and began again. "I love you, so much, and usually, when you hold me, it's all I can think about. It's like there's nothing but the two of us."

"And that's a bad thing?" he asked, in a husky voice.

"No, but... don't take this the wrong way, Han, but I can't focus on you right now, there's so much else on my mind. So much to worry about..."

"I could take your mind off your worries."

"I'm sure you could. But I don't want to come to you because I want you to help me forget. I want it to be... to be because it's what I want." She knew this didn't make sense but she couldn't think how to say it to make him understand. "I want it to be about you, and about us. Not about anything else." Her finger traced the line of his jaw. He was so handsome, and she loved him so much.

"You want our first time to be right."

Although it wasn't a question, she nodded, ever so slightly. He saw something else in her eyes, and abruptly he got it. It wasn't just their first time she was talking about. It was her first time.

Her first time.

She still looked up at him expectantly, and he saw the worried furrow between her brows. "You know," he offered, trying to keep his tone light, "I'm not sure either of us has the energy right now for everything I've got planned." A corner of her mouth turned up and he flashed a teasing half-grin of his own. "You definitely deserve my full attention, sweetheart, and I'm not sure you'd get it tonight."

A strange look crossed her face. "That's it, exactly. My mind's in a thousand places tonight."

He wanted to touch her in a thousand places tonight. And it was pretty much the only thing on his mind at the moment.

But he had to admit, the whole Vader thing did kind of lurk in the background. And if he was thinking about it, at a time like this, then what must it be like for her?

"Clearly I'm not at my best, then. If I was you'd be thinking of me and nothing else."

"I'd hate for you to be off your game." she teased. Then, hesitantly, she added, "I was wondering, though, if you'd be willing to stay with me tonight." Her tone was wistful as she looked up into his eyes. "If you'd hold me? I'd like that, very much."

Then, trying to explain, she added, embarrassed to feel her face growing hot, "I don't really want to be alone, and if you wouldn't mind, I mean… that it's not…"

For a moment he felt a pang of regret and a rush of renewed desire, but he was more tired than he'd realized. The idea of simply sleeping, if he could do it with her in his arms, suddenly sounded like an excellent one.

Damn, he was getting old, if sleep sounded better to him than sex.

He reached down and turned her face back up to his. "Of course I'll stay with you, sweetheart." he said, simply. "And if that's all you want right now, then stop worrying. I won't push you."

He saw her surprise, and gave her a look of mock indignation.

"What, you don't think I can behave myself?"

She gave a shaky laugh. "You don't usually."

"Thought that was what you liked about me," he remarked, with a playful crooked grin. "Wait, I remember, you like nice men, right? Maybe you want to find yourself a nice man to sleep with instead?"

"I like nice men." she agreed, smiling to let him know she remembered, too. Then her eyes turned serious. "I love you."

He leaned down and kissed her, soft and tender and warm. He broke off after a moment and pulled her back against him, his cheek against her hair. "I love you, too," he told her.

They stood still in each other's arms for a long moment, and then she drew back from his embrace and took his hand, smiling up at him.

He smiled back. "C'mon, sweetheart, I'm dead on my feet. Let's go to bed."


	4. Chapter 4

Holding hands, they made their way, meandering back down the ladders and along the walkways to the medium-sized hut where he and Chewie had tossed their belongings when they'd first returned to the village.

In the intervening hours, dozens of other Rebels had added their gear to the pile, and it took Han several minutes to locate his things in the ensuing disorder. He hastily shoved loose items into the duffel and swung it over his shoulder, taking Leia's hand again.

Just down the walkway was a much smaller hut where Leia had clearly already set up housekeeping. "It's not much, but I think Wicket displaced an entire family to put me in here," she told him, sounding embarrassed to have been given such luxury by the small creatures.

"Ah, don't worry," he assured her. "They're probably thrilled - they get a chance to bunk in the big house with the Golden One."

"Better them than us," she remarked, automatically, and Han chuckled his agreement.

Leia bent to gather a handful of things from a bag that lay open on the floor and disappeared into the screened corner. Han sat down heavily on the edge of the sleeping platform and eased off his boots with a relieved sigh. Shedding his shirt and grimy fatigue pants, he quickly exchanged them for the lighter, cleaner trousers he'd brought in his pack.

Leia emerged from her corner just as he turned around, tying the drawstring on the trousers. She caught herself staring at his solid muscled arms and shoulders, the gentle sprinkling of hair along his chest, and where it disappeared into his trousers. It wasn't anything she hadn't seen before, but somehow, it was different now.

This was Han Solo, standing beside her bed, and he was waiting for her to come and join him.

She had to remind herself to breathe.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just..." She looked down at herself. "I feel a bit overdressed."

"You look fine," he assured her. She had exchanged the oversized khaki coverall they'd given her at the medical tent for a loose tunic and slim leggings. Her feet were bare, and her hair still fell down her back in a long braid. He lifted one leering eyebrow and added, "You can take your shirt off, too, if it makes you feel better."

"Nice try, flyboy, but I think I'll keep it."

"Can't blame a man for trying."

"Han, are you sure you don't mind? I know this isn't what you want."

"Yeah," his expression softened, "it is what I want." He came around the platform and took her hands in his. "There's some other things I want, too," he added, honestly, "but I'll get over it."

She lifted her eyes from their joined hands to meet his serious gaze.

"I'm sorry..." she began, and he put his finger to her lips.

"Shh. Nothing to be sorry for, honey." She didn't look convinced. "There'll be another night, Leia. Lots of them, I hope."

She smiled at this. "I hope so too."

"Hey, can I…?" He gestured at her hair and she nodded, although she wasn't quite sure what he wanted her permission to do. Catching the end of her long braid in his hand, he loosened the clasp, and then used his fingers to gently comb it free. Long waves tumbled over her shoulders and he lifted a handful to his lips. "Gods, Leia," he murmured, leaning down to rub his cheek against the soft silk that flowed over his fingers. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?"

"As long as I've wanted to do this?" she breathed, tracing circles on his sternum with gentle fingers.

He drew back and smiled, crookedly, down into her eyes. "What the hell were we waiting for?" he teased.

She laughed and leaned in to rest her forehead in the hollow of his shoulder. The gentle brush of her long hair on his bare torso was such a sensual delight that it made him catch his breath. She felt it, and took a step back, but he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. Pressed tightly against him, she could feel the evidence of his arousal, and she drew back, a little harder this time.

"I thought we weren't going to rush this?"

He swallowed hard and blew out his breath. "We aren't." _Just take it slow, Solo. Don't screw this up_. "C'mon, honey, let's get some sleep."

She took another step away from him, and went around the sleeping platform. Sliding under the blanket, she lay on her back, looking at the hut's high, thatched ceiling, and wondering what to do next. Oblivious to her inner turmoil, he reached across her to turn out the light, and his arm remained outstretched, beckoning her closer. "C'mere."

Cautiously, she nestled against him and blew out a long sigh, her breath fluttering across his skin, rustling the fine hairs on his chest. He settled himself comfortably beside her, suddenly content just to have her close to him. It felt so right.

How long had it been since he had actually _slept_ with a woman?

Unexpectedly, she sat up, and then leaned across him, planted her hands on the pillow on either side of his head, and bent down to kiss him. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders and tickled his neck, enclosing them in a shimmering private curtain of chestnut silk.

He was so surprised, he opened his mouth to ask her what she was doing, but she opened her mouth against his and he gave up. He simply lay back and enjoyed the weight of her body against his and the warmth of her tongue as it explored his mouth. At last he couldn't bear it any longer, and he put his hands on her waist and gently pushed her up.

"Hey," he whispered, against her lips. "I thought you said you weren't asking for anything else tonight."

"I'm not," she whispered back. "I just like kissing you."

He smiled into the darkness. "I like kissing you, too. But you probably don't want to climb on top of me right now, sweetheart. Not unless you've changed your mind about keeping your pants on."

"Oh." she pulled away abruptly, chagrined to realize that she was, in fact, lying on top of him, and that the evidence indicated his enthusiasm had not dampened. "Oh, Han. I'm sorry." Then she gave a soft chuckle. "You're saying you'll behave yourself, if I do?"

Beneath her, his ribs rocked with laughter. "I'm not complaining, honey. Kiss me all you want. Just don't expect to get much sleep if you keep it up."

"All right, all right. I didn't mean to tease."

"I know you didn't." His hand slid up to her shoulders. "Here, turn a little." Rolling up onto his side, he guided her gently along with him, settling her into the curve of his body. "I want to hold you."

She sighed and leaned back against his warmth. "This is nice."

"Yes," he murmured, into her hair, "it is."

"You really aren't mad at me?"

"I'm really not mad at you."

"I do love you, Han."

"I know." He leaned down and kissed her, softly. "Good night, Princess," he said against her ear, twining his fingers in hers again.

"Good night, Han."


	5. Chapter 5

It had been a very long time since Han Solo had woken up with a woman beside him. His body became aware of her soft warmth long before his brain caught up and he shifted in his sleep, pulling her closer, fitting her slender body more closely to his own. Silken strands of her hair, loose and tangled between their bodies, danced in rhythm with his breath, tickling his nose with a faintly floral scent.

His hand settled, instinctively, on the curve of her breast, cupping the warm softness in his palm. The firm swell of an erect nipple rose up against his thumb, through the thin fabric of her shirt, and the answering pull of desire in his own groin brought him fully awake in a hurry.

He was in bed with **_Leia_**. And they were both wearing clothes. What was that about? He'd had an awful lot of the Ewok ale the night before, and his head had been throbbing even before his mind had begun racing backwards, recalling all that had happened the night before.

Tears. There had definitely been a lot of tears. She'd been upset. But not at him. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to shake off the headache. _Kriffing Ewoks._ He hadn't been this hungover since the blurry binge-filled weeks that had followed his court-martial.

They were both wearing far too many clothes for this to have been his idea. She'd asked him to stay, but sex had not been on her mind.

It had been on his mind, all right. But the truth was, he'd been tired, too. Deep down, bone-wrenching tired. And he'd agreed to... what? To take things slow. What the hell did that mean? He guessed it meant that it would be up to her.

At that moment, a small hand found his beneath the covers. "Han?" She said his name, in a sleepy mumble, wriggling back into the curve of his legs, and he turned to look down at her.

Without thinking, he gathered her close against him, an arm securely around her waist. He bent and brushed a gentle kiss against her forehead and whispered, "Shh. It's all right, Leia. I'm here."

"Mmm..." she sighed, drowsily, and her eyes never opened. Her lips curled upward in a soft smile, parting slightly as she breathed.

_Leia Organa. Lying here, beside him. Smiling. _He'd made her happy, just with his presence. _Wow. _

An unfamiliar emotion slowly crept over him and it took him some time to separate it from the physical longing he still felt for her.

Until this morning, he'd never imagined that another person's happiness could be so utterly essential to his own.

As much as he wanted to make love to her, to touch every centimeter of her skin, to taste it beneath his lips... he realized, quite suddenly, that there was something he wanted more. Han Solo wanted every morning of the rest of his life to begin the way this one had - with the woman he loved beside him, in his arms.

Not since he'd been a very young man had he admitted, even to himself, that anyone had this much power over him.

And never, ever, had he minded it less than he did at this moment.

If only her eyes would open and meet his own, would light up with love and laughter.

If only he could fill the empty places within her. Perhaps he could surround the loneliness in his own soul with her warmth. Perhaps together they could find the peace that eluded them separately.

He knew she was frightened and upset and confused by the events of the last few days. Everything she'd thought was important to her, everything she'd held dear, had been taken from her. Her past had been rewritten and she was questioning the future she'd thought lay ahead.

He didn't know what dreams of the future she'd had to abandon, along with her past. What he knew was that whatever future there was for her now, he wanted to share it.

As he looked down at the woman in question, her eyes opened and he saw the surprise flicker across her face before she remembered where she was, and why. She smiled up at him and a slender hand reached up to touch his cheek, wonderingly.

"Good morning," she whispered softly. "You're really here, aren't you?"

"I am," he assured her, brushing a long strand of loose hair away from her face with a gentle finger. "And I'm not going anywhere. Not as long as I can lie here and look at you."

Her fingers were cool against the stubbled line of his jaw. "As long as I get to look at you, too, you have a deal."

"I love you, Leia," he said, gruffly, his voice catching in his throat as emotion threatened to overwhelm him. "More than I can say."

"I love you, too."

"C'mere," he growled, his mouth closing over hers. The kiss went on for a long time, and his hands had wandered beneath her shirt when he heard the approaching sounds of life outside the hut and, reluctantly, released her.

Han had never been crazy about having an audience, and he didn't relish the thought of being interrupted by a band of curious Ewoks at a critical juncture.

_Hell._ Why couldn't their first night together have been in a suite on Ord Mantell, with a door that locked, and a bathing tub big enough for two? And room service? _Another time_, he thought. _For sure. _His princess deserved it and one day... well, one day they'd have some time alone.

For now... he drew back gently and said, "Let's go find some breakfast, sweetheart."

She sighed but nodded her agreement. "I guess we should."

Rolling off the sleeping platform, he held out a hand to her and pulled her up to stand in front of him.

"Thank you, Han. For everything."

"Anything for you, Highness-ness. Anything."

She blushed and went up on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss his scratchy chin. "I love you, nerfherder."

He caught her around the waist and spun her around in a dizzying circle. "I love you, too."

["Did I hear someone mention breakfast?"] A large furry head poked through the doorway and Han set the princess back on her feet.

"Count on a Wookiee to hear food mentioned from a quarter mile off," he said, dryly.

"Let's go," Leia laughed, taking his hand. "I'm starved." Chewbacca growled his agreement and soon they were following him to a large hut that appeared to be the de facto dining hall.

While they were eating their breakfast, the Princess received a comm call from the command ship and she agreed to call back from a more private location in a few minutes to join a conference that was taking place high above them. And before he quite knew how it had happened, he and Chewie were readying the _Falcon _for a trip to Bakura.

Han had a suspicion Bakura wasn't going to have room service, either. He guessed he'd have to just hope for locks on the doors, at least.

_A/N Thanks to all who've reviewed and I hope you've enjoyed this story. Stay tuned for the sequel!_


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